Blood Innocence
by Shadows' Nightmare
Summary: Turned by the Vampire King and made to serve his deadly decadent court, Seras is mocked by her peers for her blood innocence and virginity. Learning of the sort of brothel in the dungeon, Seras descends just to see what's down there. Little can she imagine, she might just find the emaciated companion she needs in this corrupt underworld. (Short fic. A few chapters of PxS.)
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes: This idea was inspired a long time ago by Master Of The Boot's fanfic "All the Pretty Things: Strangled At Birth." A little crass for my taste, but I kind of liked the idea of a brothel in the dungeon for vampires to enjoy, and Seras making her way down there to seek a reprieve from her horrifying unlife.

I KNOW many of you are still waiting on me to update my Beauty and the Beast and Little Mermaid fic. I promise I'm working on them. At the same time, I've been working on them exclusively for so long I need to take a mental break. I want to try writing about something different, and clear some plot bunnies from my head.

Disclaimer: I have no legal claim or financial gain to Hellsing. I also give full credit to Master of the Boot and his fanfic "All the Pretty Things" for inspiring this story in the first place.

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As the world was taken over by vampires, Seras was attacked and nearly raped and turned into a ghoul by a rogue vampire. She was saved at the last minute by the Vampire King, who came to conquer the "town punk" that attacked a whole human village in the open; but she was mortally wounded in the process. For reasons she could never guess, he took pity on her, drank her blood before she bled out and "saved her" by making her into a vampire. She remained by his side from then on out, but hated and feared every minute because it was not a fun place to be.

If this were a fairy tale, his rescue would be the perfect ending. She was a damsel in distress saved by a handsome prince or king riding by, he took her on his valient black steed, and they rode away into the sunset (er, moonset) to his kingdom, where they would live in his castle forever more.

Too bad Seras wasn't a princess, this wasn't a fairy tale, he was not a gallant prince or king, and the castle in question was a wretched hive of supernatural depravity. He was a sadistic, blood-thirsty, supernatural abomination and tyrant. His castle was filled with other wanton, corrupt, blood-thirsty creatures just like him.

Apparently Seras was supposed to feel grateful to the Vampire King himself for deeming her worthy to work as a secretary in his study. For the life of her, she just couldn't see it. She sat before the beautiful hand-carved mahogony desk on a large leather armchair, before piles of thick yellow parchment, typewriters, antique telephones, and other such things, and thought she could think of no worse punishment. She was a police officer, not a receptionist. She was an action girl that worked out on the field, not an office girl that sat behind a desk. Papers, numbers, letters, and office technology had been the bain of her existence when she was alive. Now she had to do this for eternity as an immortal, soulless, blood-sucking monstrocity?

"And now you and I may be inseparable," her master said as he settled down to his own larger, grander desk at the center of the study.

"Ugh..." Seras groaned, but then sighed and let it pass.

He was rarely in his study and was so focused on his own work he barely paid her any mind when he was there, so that was a blessing in disguise.

Little did she know, the job itself was a blessing in disguise too. Having a job actually gave her something to do, which was more than she could say for the other vampires he turned who had nothing better to do than lay around all day and night. Working also gave her an excuse not to interact with them.

Around the castle, countless vampire aristocrats lounged. If her master was the Vampire King, and his home the official royal castle, then the vampires that lounged were his royal courtiers.

Countless wealthy, aristocratic lords and ladies all lounging around plush beds and couches. Dozens of men in dandy suits and dusters, bow ties and knotted cravats that recreated the elegance of Victorian England. Countless women in deep silk evening dresses, with long slits up the legs, arm-length opera gloves, long wavy hair, glittering jewels and fine titles.

Seras felt very out of place. She was the one turtleneck in a sea of plunging necklines. The one coarse cotten t-shirt and jeans in a sea of silk evening dresses with glittering jewels. The one shrinking violet in a garden of blooming roses, reaching sunflowers, and grasping vines. She was the timid lamb in a den of ravinous wolves... The one blushing virgin in a pleasure den of lascivious sirens.

While Seras found her office work tedious, it was a welcome change from the wanton women lounging around that tried to invite her to join them every time they saw her.

As Seras worked toward her grief of no longer being human, ripped away from the only life she ever knew, joining this horrible secret society of soullest bloodsucking monsters, battled her identity crisis of being a Police Girl versus a Dracula, questioned her place in the universe and her right to exist, and all those other things we know she feels but don't have time to go into detail over the story... her "sisters" made it that much harder by trying to welcome her into the fold, then pressure her into entering while she still wasn't ready.

They moaned and arched and sighed whenver she saw them. Every human, every male they came across made them giggle like tinkering bells, dance around like gossamer gowns flowing in the wind, and beckon like mirages.

Every parlour and chamber in the Vampire King's castle was filled with pleasured women, moaning and sighing as they were feeling up human pleasure slaves, or were felt up by male vampires that turned them for that very purpose.

Seras heard moaning in her own ear, and gasped and shot back.

It was one of the Brides, the three eldest and dearest to the Vampire King, with her moonlit skin and silken evening dress.

"Seras..." she moaned, "It has been too long... You must join us in play..."

Seras shot back, and stood apprehensively, ready to run. "I... no. I don't need to."

"But it's been so long!" one of the other brides joined in. She was just as esquisitely beautiful, but with long dark chocolate brown hair to contrast her moonlit skin. "You were turned so long ago and yet you refuse to join us."

"I... no, I'm fine," Seras said again, and backed away slowly.

Her "sisters" slowly approached her, looking needy and desperate for... something.

Without turning her back, Seras fumbled for the doornob behind her. "I... I just have too much work to do. The master keeps me so busy, you see."

"Oooh... he keeps you 'busy' all right, but not the way you need to be..."

"If only he took you as he took us when he turned us," she placed a hand on her breast and took a sharp breath, "you would be just as you should be..."

She saw these moaning, sighing, nymphomatic... things and wondered what happened to them? Were they like this when they were alive? Who were they when they were alive? What happened to them to make them these... empty, soullest, identitiless beings?

"Who were you before you became this?" Seras asked.

They didn't seem fazed by the question. Only mildly curious that she would ask such an odd question. Nothing more.

Having clasped the doornob, she threw it open and darted out the door.

Nymphomaniacs, every one of them. Regardless of what they were like before they were turned, most vampires seemed to lose themselves in the wanton pleasures of lust, flesh, and blood. Any time Seras had to walk through the main lobbies or antechambers, she felt her insides run cold by the dozens of well-dressed vampires lounging around with human servants in their laps, or draped in a fellow vampire's lap.

They mocked her for her chastity though. At first she ignored them, but this was her life and these were her new people, no matter how miserable it made her to slowly acknowledge it over the coming months, and their mockery slowly got to her.

Even her master soon grew impatient with her chastity.

"Seras, come here," he said.

She approached him. One of the reasons she didn't like him being in his study was the attention he could pay her. Like every night, he held out his hand, and she placed her own in his.

In the earlier nights, he just have her kiss his hand in reverence. On nights when he felt more amorous, he would hold out his palm facing up so she could clasp it, then he would kiss her. Over time he would nip at her flesh, and gently nip or suck on her veins.

Over time, he grew more... desirous. Tonight, like many nights before, after she clasped his hand he led her around the desk and over to his lap. Like the obediant servant, she sat in his lap and allowed him to run his hands over her arms and waist.

He was extremely tall and handsom, with long wavy black hair, moon pale skin, and an impeccable black Victorian suit and white coat draped across his shoulders. She felt so small and frail in his arms, like a little kitten sitting atop his lap. She felt him run the back of his gloved fingers over her bare arms, and breathe soothingly into her ear.

She'd be lying if she said it didn't feel good physically, but emotionally it was very distressing because she wasn't fully sure what he intended, how far it would go, whether she would have any say; and truthfully whether she even wanted it now.

"Seras..." he whispered seductively in her ear, "Why haven't you drank any blood?"

She shudderd. She couldn't answer.

"Master, you know..."

"Why. Not. Drink?" he demanded, as he squeezed her arms.

Seras winced, and her insides squirmed with discomfort. She knew he knew the reason why, and admitting was so painful because she felt so foolish, knew he saw her as foolish.

"I... I don't know," she confessed. "It just feels like..."

He squeezed more tightly, commanding her to go on.

"It'll just feel like..." she closed her eyes, "something important will have ended inside of me forever..."

"You are an idiot," he snapped, and flung her away.

Seras clutched her waist with her arms as she steadied herself, and he swung away from her in his great chair.

They'd had this conversation many times before. Once, he had amitted this could work. That maybe in a castle filled with wonton creatures of the night, there might be room for a timid little "evening walker" like her. Once, he admitted he kept her around because she was a breath of fresh air in this heady, stuffy, perfumed castle of indulgence. However, he grew more and more agitated with her over time. The traits he had found refreshing at first became annoying later. Then it started showing in how he treated her. Then it showed in what he chose to talk to her about. Now it was all he talked about.

"You refuse to drink blood. You refuse to lie with anyone. You refuse to socialize with your own kind like a proper vampire," he snapped.

"And you refuse to accept that I do things at my own pace, and suddenly that's my fault?" Seras snapped.

Weak, timid, and cowardly as she was, even she had her limits. Even she felt too angry and defensive to remember she was yelling at the Vampire King.

"I thought you a breath of fresh air from the wanton sirens that fill my castle," he said, with a careless sweep of his surroundings. "But even I thought you would get with the program eventually."

"So you picked the chastest girl you could find and expected her to change, and somehow that's _my_ fault?" Seras snapped again.

What was that old proverb Seras heard when she was alive? "Women marry men expecting them to change but they don't, while men marry women hoping they won't change but they do"? Talk about gender-reversal here! If Seras had a penny for every time someone expected her to change the way they wanted (usually to become a slut so they could sleep with her, as early as when she turned twelve), she could retire before joining the police force!

"I thought it amusing at the time. Now this innocent 'good girl' act is getting old," her master said with decision.

Seras felt ready to sob. A few months ago, it was a breath of fresh air. Now it was old?

"It's not an act!" she cried.

He looked at her sharply.

Everyone seemed to assume her lack of drinking was an act. Did it not occur to any of them that she was trying to preserve who she was? To not lose her humanity? To not get lost in the wanton desires that had consumed them? She felt that becoming a vampire was no different, no better than becoming a ghoul. Every one of them ceased being who they were before they died, and became something else; something wanton, corrupt, gluttinous and mean.

He seemed to comprehend all of this with his piercing glare.

"It's not..." she faltered.

At last, he said, "Just drink the blood, you idiot," and swung away from her.

Well, her master ordered it. She had to drink blood some time. She could feel her insides now crave the blood like an alcoholic craves a drink, just at her master's command. But, her master didn't say when to drink, so Seras could put it off as long as she could.

Yet, it was harder to ignore now. Before, it was her own vampiric hunger that she could ignore if she put her mind on other things; like work. Now the part of her that longed for her master's love and approval craved blood so much, she almost swore she felt her intestines writhe like snakes, slithering and seeking what her master ordered.

She felt it craving; aching. Her thirst was almost impossible to ignore. Day and night, she thought of little else. Even if she thought of other things like the papers she was to go over, she still thought of blood in the back of her mind.

Yet, she still couldn't bring herself to do it. She walked around the castle and saw the handsome dandy men that towered over her and she felt too intimidated. She knew they liked to dominate the females she saw them feeding from as she went around. Just the thought of one of them leaning over her to kiss her, to dominate her made her instinctively scoot away, no matter how bad her hunger got.

The Brides were an absolute no, because even if they were smaller and slighter, they often... lost themselves in their lust. Became voracious beings like fabled she-wolves, and the idea of them crawling over her, lulling her with their hypnosis, feeding off her one by two by four while she was powerless to ask them to stop... scared Seras too.

Most of the cleaning staff were drained and abused by the other vampires enough that Seras didn't want to add to their trauma. Besides, vampires were extremely territorial, and most of them had reserved cleaning staff as their own personal pleasure slaves in that department.

Because he was such a respected and feared Vampire King, the courtiers that often frequented his castle didn't live there. He was arrogant and feared enough that high ranking vampires came in and out, staying for a holiday here and extended visit there. Most vampires visited each other's castles quite like the way we visit friends and aquaintences all the time.

So, imagine Seras' surprise to learn there was a brothel in the dungeon, filled with prostitutes of both genders for vampires upstairs to enjoy.

"Don't you have plenty of... er... companions of your own?" Seras grimaced.

"Of course not!" one vampiress with a valley-girl accent exclaimed, "These humans are just for drinking, the slaves downstairs are for fucking!"

Seras winced at the crude choice of words.

"Um... what's the difference?"

"Of course you wouldn't know the difference, virgin!"

A few of the women giggled.

Seras frowned.

With how much they indulged with each other, their own personal human pleasure slaves, and the cleaning staff around the castle, Seras wondered _what on earth_ - what point and purpose - was the brothel for? Humans as blood and pleasure slaves up here and literal pleasure slaves for drinking blood from down there?

"Now you're catching on," said the Bride that Seras expressed her concern toward.

Melinda was one of the less lascivious Brides in the castle, at least after she was fed, and therefor the easiest one for Seras to talk to. They were in the dressing room, where several women decked themselves with silks, pearls and jewels. Seras stood off to the side in her faded t-shirt and jeans, not touching any of the pretty things before her.

"But there's no difference!" Seras cied.

"There's a world of difference," Melinda said calmly, and adjusted her necklace. "We vampires can only enjoy each other so much because we're all dead; our blood is cold and lifeless. There's not much of a meal."

"But don't you drink from each other all the time?" Seras asked.

The other women laughted, a tittering, tinkling, mocking laugh.

"Aw, she's so cute!"

"It's obvious you've never tried it, Seras!"

"Of course not!" Seras blushed.

She was embarrassed to admit she was a virgin in life, and now she was embarrassed to admit she was a "blood virgin" in death, despite how much she hated the whole concept.

"Of course we drink of each other," Melinda laughed, "It's so erotic! And vampire blood tastes good too. Has its own spice and flavor, even humans don't have. You'll understand with time. But it still not enough to sustain us. As good as it tastes, it does nothing for us; doesn't give us strength, rejuvinate us... it's like drinking water when what you need is a solid meal."

Like the enchanted Turkish delite from _The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe_, Seras though, remembering the scene in that book.

"Humans have such warm bodies and hot, rich, scrumptious blood," Melinda continued. "Oh, it makes my throat ache just thinking about it. It's so hot and filling, and feels pleasurable to reap in bed and bite..."

Her fangs grew noticeably longer as she talked, and her voice grew raspier.

Seras winced. 'You just ate!' she thought.

Melinda took a deep breath and forced herself to relax though. "But they're still our slaves," she sighed regretfully. "They can only take so much fucking and biting. It's a hassle having to be gentle, but it's more of a hassle to replace them."

Seras frownded. Melinda meant it was a hassle to find a replacement after they killed them.

"We have to be gentle with our servants," Melinda concluded, and smeared some glittery eye shadow over her eyes.

"Yeah!" the valley girl chimed in. "Up here, we have to be gentle. Down there, we can be as rough as we want!"

Seras felt physically sick. How was it they could talk of people like this?

"But doesn't that hurt them too?" she asked.

"Of course not," the valley girl said, "only the best of the best are down there."

"The what?"

"Oh, you know," she said as she applied mascara, "The best in taste, looks, stamina..."

"The prostitutes have been specially selected and... uhm... trained," Melinda moaned, "To satisfy our pleasure. And there's many different kinds down there, to satisfy different needs. You want someone tall and thick, yet smooth as silk? You've got the Captain. You want someone stout and burly, and hairy to boot? Anderson's for you. Someone tall, thin, and birdlike? Rip Van Winkle will make you sing. And that's not even getting to different species. There are quite a few exotic choices down there. His Majesty certainly likes to reward his subjects."

"I... there are exotic choices?" Seras asked, her head spinning.

"M-hm," Melinda said absently, tying her hair up with pearls.

"Maybe you should think about going down there to lose your blood innocence," the valley girl said to Seras as she applied finishing touches. "Or blood virginity, whichever comes first."

"Or goes first," Melinda grinned.

The valley girl gasped.

So for the next several night Seras got teased harder than ever for being a blood virgin. She'd never bitten anyone, never drank any blood, and never went to bed with anyone. For a vampire, this was as good as being a complete loser.

'Not that different from humans, come to think of it,' Seras thought. Those had been dark times in her life.

Now it was even worse because her peers mocked her for not drinking blood as well as not having sex. Not that she fully cared what they thought - she thought of them as vain, lazy, selfish, wanton, almost repulsive nymphomaniacs that indulged in their every desire like spoiled children without impulse control.

Yet, Seras had to live with them, as well as her master, and, well... the comments eventually got to her.

At first she tried to ignore it, but her master's demand that she drink and the ridicule she received from her peers finally started to get to her. Seras still could not bring herself to do it any more than she could bring herself to eat a dead possum, but their words slowly sunk in.

Many a day Sera lay awake in her coffin, lost deep in thought, feeling tortured and conflicted.

She held up her hand and looked at her own chalky, dehydrated, emaciated skin, and wondered if she was carrying this out too long. She didn't want to drink, didn't want to lose the last shred of her humanity. She didn't want to lose that small part of herself and become just like them, yet...

She also felt curious as to what lay down there. What sorts of people became prostitutes (just thinking the word made her wince) for the undead? What services did they offer that regular ones couldn't?

If she couldn't bring herself to drink from her peers (there was just an instintual aversion she had no desire to try to overcome), nor harrass the already harried and drained human servants, maybe she could just go down there...? See if there was... well, just see?

One night, social shame and curiosity finally won over and Seras decided to just check it out. Just see what there was to see, if there was anything to see, and make her decision when it was time.

She learned where to find the madam - a beautiful red-haired woman with the ruthless sales pitch of a used jewelry store saleswoman. Seras wasn't sure what kind of vampire she expected to run the dungeons of an ancient, Gothic, medieval castle, but a tall, perky, red-haired vampire woman in a loose but elegant bun and dress was not what she would have guessed first.

"Oh, you're Seras Victoria! The blood virgin!" she exclaimed on first seeing her.

Just the term _virgin_ hit like an insult.

"My reputation proceeds me, it seems," Seras said.

"Of course it does! I could smell your innocence a mile away!" she said cheerfully.

"That's not what I meant..."

"Now, let's go down to the basement and see if there's something we can find!"

And the madam - Narissa - opened a large, creaking wooden door to a dark, dank passage. One would think they were going into a brightly lit and perfumed room, the way she smiled and ushered Seras down.

Seras felt extremely nervous descending the stone spiral steps into the dungeon - er, brothel. She saw a long, dark, stone hallway, filled with dozens upon dozens of doors on each side.

"Now, over there you'll find the female of the species..." Narissa said, pointing down the right, "And over here you'll find the males of every species!"

"All right," Seras said.

Taking this as preference, the woman led her down to the left.

Some of the doors were ajar, so she could smell the perfumes inside. In one room, she could hear one male shaving in here (she could hear the focet water running, and hear the scrape of the razor blade against his skin), and in another she could hear one brushing his teeth. One door was wide open and she could see one man servicing a patient...

"Oh my!" Seras quickly darted her eyes away.

She would never remove the mental brand of a blonde vampire woman with her top off, riding a little brunette male human.

Narissa was extremely put out.

"Close the door when you're taking a whore!" she snapped.

The vampire woman pouted cutely as Narissa slammed the door.

Seras' cheeks burned.

"So, what kind of 'Prosti-dude' are you looking for?" she grinned.

"Please don't call them that," Seras said.

It just sounded so... trashy.

"Well, what's your type? Tall? Blonde? Strong? Human? Werewolf?"

"Well, I... there's werewolves?" Seras blinked.

"Oh yes! Quite a few!" Narissa grinned, rubbing her hands. "Three, in fact. One's a female, so you won't have any use for her." She led her down the hall as she spoke. "One's a tall auburn brute, very stout and hairy. Not your type? Well, then I might just have the right one for you..."

As she talked, Seras noticed one door slightly ajar. It was near the end of the hall, where the dim light was lowest. She could see just fine since she was a vampire, but she doubted whoever lived there could. She could hear the faint beating of a heart, and breathing of lungs.

Even before she saw, she sensed whoever it was was weak, and in poor shape. The heart beat was soft even by human standards, and slightly muffled from the fat surrounding arteries. Most likely a poor diet and lifestyle had slightly clogged it, and either a very polluted upbringing or smoking made the lungs vaguely raspy.

As they drew near the werewolf's door, with the proprietor still talking, Seras leaned forward to see who lived in that little room.

He was sitting on the ground, with his back leaned against the wall, with his legs bend and his feet flat against the floor. He was naked except his trousers. This allowed her to see just how emaciated he was. She could see every bone in his body. Almost the entire surface of his skin was covered in large scars, cuts, gashes, and laserations. Some were scars, some looked like they were in the long process of healing, many looked like they were infected while on the verge of healing, and many looked very fresh.

A small trickle of blood ran down his arm, exciting her involuntary vampire hunger.

He had long, limp, red-brown hair tied in a loose braid down his back. It was dull, coarse, tangled in places, and clung to his skin from dried sweat. His skin was a pale sickly greyish-yellow, like he had seen neither nutrition nor sunlight in years. His long limbs were draped along his sides like he was too exhausted to lift them. In fact, his entire continence looked deeply lethargic and exhausted.

When she saw him, she felt so sorry for him, but at the same time she felt drawn - interested.

He took a weak breath from his cigarette, then glanced at her as though to say, "What's it to ya?"

She felt ashamed and immediately averted her eyes, yet his countenance did not leave her mind.

She was vaguely aware the madam was still talking. Still bragging about the merits of the werewolf she'd heard nothing about so far.

"... Hair as smooth as silk, as all wolves' underfur is, and his dick can lift..."

"Excuse me," she said, then shook her head to try to hurry the mental image out of her mind. "But... um... Whose room is that?"

"No one's!" she laughed. "None of these prosti-dudes own this place."

"Well then - okay - who lives there?"

Narissa took one scrutinizing look at the door.

"Just some human's," she shrugged. "None worth mentioning."

"Really? But there were humans further up the hall."

"Yes, but those were sexy humans. Handsome, desirable, strong, virile humans! Those humans down there," she pointed toward the darker corridor, "Are weak, ugly, worthless things. The lowest of the low. The cheapest of the cheap. Honestly, we only keep them around so we can squeeze every last drop we can out of them before we throw them to the ghouls."

Seras gasped. "That's awful!"

"It's business," the madam shrugged. "Would you expect any better for war criminals?"

"A-a what?" Seras gulped. "Wa-war criminals?"

"War criminals," she nodded, "Those filthy mongrels that tried to fight against their vampire overlords - his Lordship in particular - but were defeated, captured, and taken here as punishment. If they didn't like serving us before, they certainly don't like it now."

"O-oh dear," Seras said, looking down, "I had no idea..."

"A worse fate could have been impalement, fire or torture," Narissa said, "A kinder one would have been a swift death, or just get thrown to the ghouls. This way? They can pay their debt to us on their way out. And we, in turn, can extract revenge from them as we ravish their bodies and enjoy their succulent blood," she licked her lips lecherously.

Seras thought of all the deep gashes and bite marks on the human's body, which left him so weak, anemic, and emaciated.

"How awful!" Seras cried again, and covered her mouth.

"It's all part of the circle of life and death!" Narissa said cheerfully.

Seras looked back at the door, and could hardly believe it. "So you're saying he's...?"

"Paying his debt we speak," she said cheerfully. "I doubt he'll last the week. Few of them do."

Only a week? But he looked like he'd been in there for ages, poor thing. How on earth...?

"... He looks like he's in bad shape," Seras said with pity.

"Well, he's supposed to be like that," the madam said, "It's part of his punishment, isn't it? If he isn't dead yet, he'll wish he was."

Seras shuddered.

Seras was to learn that prostitutes of the dungeon had many different "gimmicks" to offer. Different kinds of pleasures for different kinds of fancies. In the male section alone, there were men of all shapes and sizes. Tall and muscular, tall and thin, stout and bulky; some even short! There were vampires for patrons who wanted a more refined touch, werewolves for patrons that wanted to unleash their inner beast, humans for patrons that liked something so weak and helpless to dominate in bed, and so on.

Just as there are different tiers of quality in real life - gold, silver, bronze, and copper, refined leather versus coarse leather versus versus some synthetic garbage that humans made long ago - there were different tiers of prostitutes.

Most had different levels of attractiveness, physical fitness, aptitude, stamina, and so on. Some customers liked to be dominated in bed; others liked to dominate, and all liked different levels of domaination and submission. Some liked dominating those that put up a fight, others liked taking advantage of those too weak to fight back.

Seras learned with horror that there were some weak, malnurished, mal-treated humans who were meant to fill the fetish of vampires who liked to take complete advantage of physically weak, exhausted, poorly fed humans who were completely unable to fight back. Of pushing them under their legs, then riding them like two-bit ponies, then discarding them like broken toys. Using, abusing. Objects they pay just to abuse. Completely helpless creatures to exercize their power over before leaving them a bleeding mess after they were done.

Vampires already had vastly superior speed and reflexes from humans. The difference was already between a normal human and a sloth. So the ones that liked taking even weaker, sicklier humans for their own pleasure... well...

"So, would you like to rent an hour with the Captain?" Narissa asked cheerfully.

"... The what?" Seras asked, just having entered the conversation.

"The Captain!" she repeated indignantly.

Head spinning from all the new information, Seras vaguely allowed herself to get talked into seeing the Captain. His room was very nice, and very expensive. Not just to pay to get in (it took a whole week's pay just to walk through the door), but to furnish. It was large, mostly empty, but with beautifully carved wooden furniture, a large soft bed that smelled like it was stuffed with various animal feathers, draped with animal furs, real leather lounge chairs around the room, and fake trees set up on every wall.

The Captain himself was gorgeous. Seras felt many parts of herself come alive just seeing him.

He was indeed very tall, huge, and muscular. He wore only a pair of baggy trousers and boots, with the large silver belt buckle undone. His hair was short and indeed silky white, his chiseled jaw asclean shaven, and his high cheek bones rested under the most piercing red eyes. His skin looked very smooth and white, wrapped tightly over thick, hard, bulging muscles. She realized he must have been an albino, with his white hair, red eyes, and pale skin.

Yet... while he was handsome, there was something about him that didn't quite draw her. She couldn't explain it. She found him very handsome, but she felt no desire to touch him, speak to him, hear from him, or cross boundaries with him.

She felt the feeling was mutual. While he looked at her with the same intense gaze as anything else, she felt she was no more to him than the furniture leaning against the wall.

She tried to make it work, since she had paid so much to see him (almost unconsciously), but there was just something missing.

She stood there awkwardly for many minutes, and sat for several more. He sat on his bed and regarded her evenly, waiting for her to make the first move. He tried to get up to approach her at one point, but she freaked out so much he sat back down. She had the feeling he would do whatever she wanted if she asked him, but she didn't get the impression he would do it because he wanted to.

She tried to start a conversation a few times, but the few times they didn't die in her throat, they were killed by his pointed glare.

She realized several of the fake trees in his room were real, after she caught scent of them.

"Trees? You must really miss the outdoors!" she said.

He just looked at her.

She settled back down and felt embarrased for her stupidity.

He really was handsome. Taller than the door, smooth as marble; rippling muscles, glossy white hair, and a very deep, musky scent. He looked calm, even, and self-controlled, yet his eyes almost radiated with suppressed energy. And obediance, of course; she got the distinct impression that he would do whatever she wanted, no matter how foolishly vanilla, blush-inducingly raunchy, or even painfully humiliating, without so much as a flinch. Without giving any impression that he liked or disliked it.

She tried to imagine what it would be like to run her fingers over his skin, feel his hard muscles under her hands, kiss his lips with hers, lay down with him descending over her and... and...

It just seemed to empty and meaningless.

She couldn't describe it. Whatever they did in here, it would be as perfunctorily done as a she-dog standing still for a mutt to have a quick shag. No intimacy, no contact, no passion.

She... Seras couldn't explain it.

She wound up leaving twenty minutes early. She thanked him for his time, then apologized for wasting it, then corrected herself that at least she bought him forty minutes of not having to work... then she hastily said good by and rushed out.

The madam was not there, which she was thankful for on her way out. She ignored the smell of phermones, scented showers, and perfumes on her way through the hall. She ignored the sound of moaning in one room and the sound of one skilled workman (she was just going to mentally call them that) bringing a client into screaming oblivion in another.

Yet, even as she resolved to block this place from her mind, she couldn't help thinking of that human with the red hair and scars.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Notes: Sorry to take so long to update, there was a situation I had to deal with. I'll try to turn these chapters out quickly and update my fairy tale fics shortly. I'm almost done with Beauty and the Geese's next chapter, and mostly completed the one after that.

Disclaimer: I have no legal claim or financial gain to Hellsing. I also give full credit to Master of the Boot and his fanfic "All the Pretty Things" for inspiring this story in the first place.

* * *

Seras tried putting her entire visit to the dungeons out of her mind, but she just kept feeling haunted by that dark corridor, those doomed men, and that injured human.

It was just so gloomy and horrible. She wished there was something she could do, but she couldn't even stop vampire men up here from striking at chamber maids who pleaded mercy on account of their children. Well, she could, but it brought the wrath of the entire vampire court down on her, brought her own master down on Seras' head, the chamber maid was relocated to the vampire man's castle where he had easier access to her away from Seras, and ultimately nothing changed.

Yet, at the same time, she thought of that red-haired human that looked so used up. Like a used rag ready to be thrown away.

Seras remembered Narissa's words. "I doubt he'll last the week. Few of them do."

Seras shuddered. She felt so awful, and almost responsible for doing nothing. Even if she couldn't change the lives of everyone down there (she could only imagine approaching her master on the subject, and almost see his mocking and/or contemptuous response), she felt there was something she could do for individuals. Like seeing a stray dog or cat and choosing to take it in or make the call to the shelter. Even if you can't save all dogs and cats from the streets, you can do something for the one right in front of you.

And Seras had seen the injured human right in front of her.

She didn't even know why she was thinking about him personally. Perhaps it was pity because he was so injured. Indignation that he had caught her staring and looked at her with such contempt, like he guessed what she was thinking and felt ready to sneer at her for it.

But Seras didn't think it was pity. Not fully. He looked so lethargic and injured, like his heart would stop beating and his lungs would stop breathing because it was too much trouble to bother. Like he would drape dramatically back, let out his final breath, and rest in peace. (Now she understood what that phrase meant.)

Yet... there was an underlying forcefullness, an energy she could not describe. Despite how weak he looked, his heart pumped with conviction, his lungs with decision. His eyes were physically glazed from pain and exhaustion, yet they were as sharp as a wolf's. He looked at her with precision, and she had no doubt his mind was sharp as a tack when properly fed and rested.

Seras couldn't describe it, couldn't put her finger on it, and that's probably why it drove her so nuts.

She had no idea what she found so fascinating about this man.

After a few days of restlessness, she called one of the typists over.

"Molly, would you go to Narissa and ask if the man in the last door to the left is available?" Seras asked, almost on impulse.

Molly looked at her oddly. "The what?"

"The... man in the dungeon..." Seras felt stupid now. "Um, talk Narissa, and ask if... the man in the last door to the left is available..."

Molly still looked at her strangely, so Seras snapped, "NOW!" And she scooted off.

Seras sighed, then realized that was the first time she had ever given an order. She had always been submissive and followed orders, as all children are to adults, rookie cops are to their senior officers, and all humans are to vampires. She considered it a mark of her personal identity, and humanity. Now, giving orders like the vampires did, made her feel like a vampire. She also felt tainted, violated, and wretched.

"Why do I even want to know if the room's available?" Seras thought. "I guess I just want to make sure he hasn't died."

The typist came back and said the room was available, and the proprietor wanted to know if Seras wanted to reserve a time.

Seras hesitated. Her first thought was "NO!" but she had a feeling she might want to check in later. Having a time set aside meant she could peek in without having the proprietor hovering over her shoulder, trying to get her to choose the most expensive one.

Shyness had been what provoked her to ask the typist to check for her, and shyness was what provoked Seras to walk timidly along the hall, stopping to talk to no one, asking for help from no one, and wanting to be seen by no one.

She hovered a little outside the door, wondering what she wanted to see, what she expected to see. Part of her feared what he would think on seeing her again. What he would expect from her. Did he expect her to put out, or...?

She heard shower water running, as soft as drizzling rain drops on cement. She felt and smelled no steam, meaning the water was cold. She eventually heard the loud rusted screech of a faucet turning, and the water ceased. Shen then heard fabric scraping against flesh. Eventually she summoned the courage to peek in from the crack in the doorway.

She saw the human turned from her, dressed in nothing but faded, ripped boxer shorts and a ragged towel draped across his shoulders. Hi skin was wet, and his braid hung like a drowned cat down his back.

"Whenever you're ready, come in and sit down," he said without turning around.

Seras gasped, and felt her blood rush to her face. He was just a human, and she'd made sure not to make a sound, so how did he know she was there?

She timidly stepped in, afraid her mere presence might disturb something, and looked around. It was like a dark little prison cell. A perfect square room of cold, damp concrete, with cracks along the walls and floors and roaches scurrying between them. A steel spring bed was set against a wall. On the bed sprawled a coarse, thin matress, filled with holes, littered with stuffing ripped out of it, and blotched with huge blood stains all over.

Seras winced on seeing it. She noticed the matress hung crookedly on the bedframe, as though broken, and there was only one raggedy blanket bundled off to the side.

The whole room smelled of damp concrete, with the stronger smells of blood, sweat, body odour, tobacco smoke, and... something. Seras felt her face go warm again.

Beside the bed sat a broken wooden nightstand with two drawers, supposedly to keep his things. At a corner end of the room a shower head stuck out of the wall, while a little round drain sat in the center of the room. Most of the floor was covered with water. No wonder it was damp in here.

The human stood near the shower, absently dabbing his cheek with the towel that was draped over his shoulders. She could see the scars over his body clear as day. After a moment he gave up drying, and lit a cigarette lethargically.

He still looked very worn out. He stood in such a way that betrayed a desire to collapse. He then shambled over to his bed, and half-sat, half-flopped down onto it.

He was missing an eye.

Not sure what else to do, Seras sat on the floor opposite of him.

He took a deep drag of his cigarette and regarded her evenly.

"So..." he said.

"So..." she squeaked.

He shifted. She noticed he sat with his legs spread, and leaned back so he was propped on his elbows, so she could see the wounds that covered his bony chest and legs. He tilted his neck so she could see the savage bite marks that marred his flesh, from collar to chin.

"How do you want to do this?" he asked.

"Um..."

After a respectable silence he asked, "Are you a righty or a leftie?"

"A what?" she squeaked.

"Righty or lefty? Do you tilt your head toward the right when you bite, or the left?" he pointed to his neck, "I've been bit more on the left - your left, that is. It's more more popular to bite there, so you might want it. However, if you like flesh that's less torn up, your right will do."

"I... I don't want to drink from you," Seras flushed.

She wondered if he even had the blood to spare.

He only lifted an eyebrow, and took another drag of his cigarette.

"Then what do you want?"

"Um..." she felt suddenly extremely stupid, awkward and embarrassed.

She had no idea. She'd never done this before. Well, not true, she had been to the Captain's quarters just a few nights ago. But she still was completely unprepared for this. She didn't even know what to ask for!

He kept looking at her calmly, then widened his eye in mild surprise. "Are you blushing?"

This only made it worse. "N-no!"

"You are, aren't you?" he sat up to get a better look.

Now her face was smoldering like melted metal. "NO!"

She covered her face with her hands, which just made it worse.

"Heh," he laughed, and tapped a spare bit of ash off the end of his cigarette. "I've never seen a vampire that blushes."

"Well, you clearly don't get out much!"

She winced as soon as she said it.

The crooked half-smile dropped from his face, and his eye narrowed. "Clearly."

Seras winced. Now she'd done it.

If she had just said she was sorry, things might have been different. Instead, she tried to explain. "What I mean is, I'm a new vampire."

By about seven months, but who was counting?

"Oh," he sneered, "Is that all?"

Seras looked away.

More silence.

"So do you want to start with the arm, or...?"

"I don't know, all right?" she snapped.

He shrugged and took another drag of his cigarette.

"Take your time, then."

"I will!"

More awkward silence.

He seemed very calm and detached, which only made her more tightly strung.

"This your first time?" he asked.

She frowned as she blushed. "Yeah."

"And you decided to do it here?"

"I haven't decided anything!" Seras snapped.

Even to this one human in this private room in the darkest part of the dungeon, she still couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye or even incline toward him.

He snorted. "Clearly."

"Look, if that's the way you're going to be, you can stay here by yourself," she snapped.

He shrugged, "Fine by me."

"Very well!" she said.

Now her pride was hurt and the only way to save it was to stand and leave.

"Nice talking to you!" he said on her way out.

Seras spun around in the hallway, thought about turning back, then huffed and stormed back out.

Then she caught a second wind, stuck her head through the door and said, "You know, I was thinking about helping you, but with that attitude you can just sit there!" and she took off before he could respond.

Embarrassment increased the further she ran up the stairs and into the castle, until full-blown mortification flooded her once she reached her coffin. She felt the weight of the stupidity of her every word and action down there press more tightly on her with every passing minute, until she felt sure it would crush her. She also felt guilt and embarrassment over what she had said.

She didn't even know what came over her. It wasn't that big of a deal, and he wasn't even that rude. She was just so embarrassed and didn't handle it well. She was pretty used to mockery and humiliations by this point, but they were all from her master and the vampire court, who were all superiors to her in every way. She had to just sit there and take it, and had learned to do so.

This human made fun of her, and part of her felt like accepting, while another part felt this was a human who was there because she paid for his time (it's important to note that Seras thought of it as paying for his time and not for his body), and she didn't feel like she had to take it. She put up with it from her master because she had to, but she didn't have to from him, darn it!

So then, why couldn't she stop thinking of him? Involuntarily turning their encounter over and over in her mind?

She was sure he quite forgot her, or thought her an amusing fool to laugh about when things grew rough, but her...?

The visit had been extremely awkward. She never touched him, never drank from him. He seemed only vaguely aware of her; almost contemptuous of her. He barely looked at her, and what little he did was in amazement at seeing a vampire that blushed, then contempt for pointing out his lack of freedom. Every word held a hint of mockery that she didn't like at all.

While she doubted he could afford to do so overtly, he was such a vaguely unpleasant jerk she'd planned to put the whole thing out of her mind, but she still couldn't stop thinking about him. The visit only increased her curiosity for him, not lessened it.

She was also haunted by those scars; those slashes, those bites, those bruises. That wet but bruised skin. That anemiac physique. The kind one gets only when they're so drained of blood that all the soft, supple boyancy is gone. What little he had left seemed to seep out of his untreated bite wounds and slashes. The infected wounds that weren't healed with his "shower."

She remembered how broken down and blood-stained his bed was, and how wounded his body was, and she could only imagine he wasn't used very well. He was one of the cheapest of the cheap, barely worth considering. Just a war criminal who was to carry out his punishment in the basement till he was all used up and fed to the ghouls.

Her stomach clenched in concern for him. She could only imagine how far along he was. She had no idea how long he'd been there, how long he'd endured this, nor how long he could keep it up.

Every night she worried that somewhere far below, he was finally drained of blood and turned into a ghoul. That he'd been used up like a medical blood bag and had the empty bag thrown to the garbage shoot; in this case, the ghouls.

Every day, she dreamed he'd been used up by some client and left to die. She imagined him lying dead in his broken bed, draped across it with his one eye open. That some beautiful Bride rode him relentlessly till he snapped like a broken toy, then left his lifeless corpse there to rot.

Seras often woke gasping in horror, tears streaming down her eyes, because these dreams were not so different from the memories of her parents' murder.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. Seras didn't care if it was foolish, if other vampires laughed at her, if _he_ thought her stupid.

She bought another hour with him, then used her untouched salary to buy a whole basket of human food, medicine, and medical blood. (Yes, vampires still had those. They made a quick easy snack when humans weren't available, or the ones around them were too drained, or even to rejuvenate favored human servants that had been drained too much too quickly.) His blood type had been on the military dog tag he wore around his neck, as all humans had to do.

On her next day off, she payed for his time, walked over to his room, and stormed in.

He just took a shower. Good.

"Here," she said, and pushed the basket in his face.

"Qui est...?" he said with surprise.

"It's for you," she said as sternly as she could. "I bought it. Now eat it."

He looked at her in shock then looked inside.

Since vampires had taken over the world, humans primarily ate fresh produce picked from human-run farms. Processed human food made in factories and cooked meals from restaurants was as good as dead. Since vampires were masters of the world but didn't eat, and considered solid food just a means to keep their own food alive (much the way we consider grass, hay, feed, and other non-edibles essential just to keep our cows and chickens alive), they set human slaves to run produce and occasional animal farms. Said produce was distributed for humans in vampire abodes around the world to either cook or eat raw.

Since it was the middle of winter, the basket was filled with green winter produce. Green lettuce, spinach, kale, and peas. She had thought about getting broccoli, carrots, beats, and apples, but thought he looked like he hadn't eaten in so long it might be hard on his stomach. So she stuck to leafy greens that were rich in vitamins and nutrients but were light and easy to digest.

"I hear the greener something is, the healthier it is." Realizing that was overly simplistic, she added, "You look like you've lost too much blood, and leafy greens are filled with vitamins and minerals that help make more. The darker the color, the more vitamin-rich. So, I thought I'd give you that. It'll help fight the infection too, and I brought medicine and medical blood."

He looked at her in shock, and pushed them aside to see more. There was also skin ointment to treat his open wounds, fresh strips of linen to wrap up, and a few bags of medical blood of his type.

He looked at her. "You're juicing me up before you take a drink?"

She balked. The bluntness of the question just knocked the wind right out of her.

"... Yes," she finally said.

If that inspired more fear, and thus respect, and thus obedience, then sure.

"You know I have other customers, right?" he asked. "They feed of me too."

"I know," she said. "That's why I rented you for the week."

His eye and mouth widened in shock. "You did what?!"

"... I figured you needed the break," she said.

He just stared at her in shock.

"... You weren't that expensive," Seras explained sheepishly.

Honestly, the medical blood and ointment was more expensive.

When he didn't say anything else, she continued. "Look, you're in really poor shape, and I didn't know how much longer you'd last. So, you have a week off to recover. Eat your leafy greens, then move onto more hardy foods when you're ready. I've got more waiting for you. I'll treat your wounds - or you can if you want," she blushed, then took a deep breath and continued, "And I've got some medical blood to speed things up. I figure then you'll have a chance."

He let it all sink in for several minutes, just staring at the basket. Finally, he shook his head and pushed the basket away.

"Look, this is... unexpected..."

"I know," she said.

Even she was a little shocked by the impulsiveness of her decision.

With effort, he shrugged off his shock and resumed the cool nonchalance of his earlier demeanor.

"Look, if this is some misguided attempt at being noble..."

"What do you mean?" she snapped.

"Look, you're obviously new to being a vampire," he said. "So, if this is to ease your own guilt of feeding off someone..."

"It's not..." she flushed, "I just want you healthy, that's all."

"Why, so you can feed on me?"

She was silent.

He just looked at her, then closed his eyes and leaned back. "Look, if this is some misguided attempt at being nice..."

"It's not!" Seras snapped, "So just eat your vegetables!"

He snorted. "When did you become my mother?"

"When I rented you out for the week. I'm in charge when I rent your time, right? So do what I say and get healthy!"

He snorted, but this time it was in amusement.

The rest of the visit was almost as awkward as the first one. Seras' first priority was to get him to eat, so with a little half-smile he gathered the leafy greens and placed them in a large thin bowl she had placed at the bottom of the basket for this very situation.

"Isn't it a good idea to rinse them first?" he asked.

Seras hadn't thought of that, so ran the shower head over them and brought them back.

He ripped out handfuls of leaves of each kind, twisted and shredded them to make them bite-sized

"What, no salad dressing?" he teased.

"I didn't know where to find any..." she confessed.

"Are you kidding? There's plenty you can make with basic oils, spices and vinegars."

"Well, if you want to give me a recipe, I'll find it for you," she said a little peevishly.

He did just that, and she rather humbly agreed to bring some back next time she came down.

"So I still have to eat this crap?"

"Yes! It's good for you!" she retorted.

He groaned.

He was extremely hungry though. Due to his starvation the bitter leaves tasted much better than he expected, and he wolfed them down as much as he was able.

He was truly malnourished. For food, he was tossed moldy old bread, cheese, and other kitchen scraps that humans didn't eat but the vampires wanted to get rid of, and he only drank water from his shower head. More popular prostitutes with more wealthy clientele got better food, drinks, and gifts. Those with more generous clients got rewarded with treats and gifts for their exceptional services. Some vampires came into the Captain's room with fresh steaks, some came to Rip Van Winkle and other girls and brought her gift baskets of luxurious bubble bath supplies, perfume, sexy lingerie they wanted her to wear, etc.

Since he was the cheapest of the cheap, subject to the meanest and poorest of the sadistic, the best he got was a discarded cigarette or mostly empty pack after his client enjoyed a post-coital smoke. Or, if he was clever, he got packs of cigarettes as a tip for offering some insidious service that his client had not thought of.

While he was poorly fed and missed having the occasional drink to take the edge off, his tobacco addiction came first. Since his clients weren't the most generous, he was willing to forgo the chance at getting better food or alcoholic drinks if it meant getting more cigarettes.

He had long given up on even thinking it possible that a client might award him a more elaborate gift that more prestigious "prosti-dudes" got to enjoy.

Then she walked in, and propped a basket of medicine and healthy food right into his lap, after hunkering against the wall, blushing and fuming awkwardly at everything he said.

While he ate, she unwrapped the bandages. It was rather awkward for both of them (mostly her) as she unwrapped the linens and removed the ointment.

"Would you rather apply it after I leave, or should I now?"

"Do whatever you want," he said, and scooped another mouthful of smooshed greens into his mouth.

"Which would you prefer?" she demanded.

He widened his eye, then shrugged. "You can do it, I guess."

Since he just took a shower, she didn't necessarily have to run water over the injuries before applying the ointment. Still, she wetted one of the clothes and wiped the wounds before gently applying the ointment and wrapping them up with fresh linens when she could. She mostly just did this for his arms and legs. Her face felt very warm through the whole thing, especially when she got to the chest, but did so without flinching.

She surprised him again by bringing oral medicine (though only one pill) she expected him to eat with his food.

"You know too many anti-biotics at once can be bad for the body, right?" he said.

"Well then, you'd better start eating to balance it out," she said.

He blinked.

Once he was safely bandaged up, she found a clear spot on his arm, scrubbed it with a wet linen strip, and took out the medical blood, needle and IV.

"Do you know how to apply this?" he asked.

"Of course, I was a police officer once," she said.

He blinked. "I didn't know police officers received medical training."

"Of course, we've all been trained in basic first aid," she said. "And I've seen this done many times."

He blinked again, then scooted away.

"Get back here!" Seras snapped, and pulled him back.

He laughed. "Just don't shred an artery and make me bleed out, all right? I don't have much to spare."

"Why do you think I'm doing this?" she practically screamed.

"Hey, hey," he said in a calm voice, and gently placed his hand under her chin and directed her to look up at him.

She had been tense and irritable through the whole thing, despite the kind thing she was doing, and now looked extremely flustered. He was afraid she would tear up his arm trying to find the vein; but, by the same token, he had a feeling she didn't even fully realize the good thing she was doing, how little there was to be embarrassed about, and how little she had to fear from ridicule.

She finally looked into his eyes, and he saw fear, vulnerability, self-consciousness, and... concern for him. She seemed ready to cry.

He smiled gently. "It's all right, you're doing a good thing." He gently rubbed her arm. "I'm grateful for all the help, really. You don't have to feel so self-conscious. You're doing a great job, really."

She sighed, and smiled gently, and he felt there was a connection between them for the first time.

Seras wound up doing surprisingly well. She found the vein after he rubbed on his own arm to warm it up (it was cold in the dungeon), managed to stick the needle in without rupturing the vein, and indeed got the IV in. She remained until after the first medical bag was empty, and he chewed on the leaves throughout.

"It tastes like shit," he complained.

During the worst of our hunger, anything tastes good. However, the fuller and fuller we get, the more we realize how terrible something normally tastes.

"Well, eat it, it's good for you," Seras said.

He laughed. "Can do, ma cher."

"And don't call me ma cher," she snapped.

He grinned; a genuine, heart-felt, shines from the eyes smile. "All right."

With Pip fed, bandaged, given anti-biotics, and a bag of transfusion medical blood, Seras left him to get some rest.

She came in the same time every day for the next week, after every night of work was over. She gave him a new basket of food at the start of every visit. She gave him medical blood from one bag every night for the next three nights, to make sure he got enough but very slowly. He had been so drained. She also re-anointed his wounds, though she didn't necessarily have to un-bandage or clean them since he un-bandaged and rinsed himself off since he showered before she showed up, every time.

Seras noticed he didn't have any proper soap, shampoo, conditioner, or brush for his hair, so one day she brought in her daily basket.

"Bathroom soap, really?" he asked when he looked into the basket that night.

Seras blushed, but raised her head as though to say she stood by her decision.

"What, no loofa?" he teased.

"I don't even know what that is," she said.

"It's a thing where you... Oh, never mind," he said.

He saw her plain, tomboyish attire. Today she wore high-waisted jeans, a dark grey three-quarter sleeved belly shirt, and a jean jacket. She probably really didn't know what it was.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

There was still a rather tense, awkwardness between them. Seras was still embarrassed and unsure how to behave because interacting with a prostitute ("not prosti-dude," she thought) whose time she paid for was completely new territory. Pip still had no idea how to react to her because she didn't seem to know what she wanted. What's more, he was not used to a vampire who paid to drink and screw from him doing anything beyond merely biting, draining, fucking and leaving.

"Yeah..." He then smirked. "I don't suppose you want to lather me up?"

Like flipping a switch, her face instantly turned beat red. "Absolutely not!"

He laughed.

"Well, I have to use this some time, or would you rather wait till after you leave?"

"It's yours, do whatever you want with it," she said.

"Yeah, but you're paying for my time, remember? That makes you in charge," he grinned.

"Oh, must you throw everything I say back in my face?" she exclaimed.

He laughed again. She was so cute when she got flustered.

"Well, we have nothing but time to kill till you leave. So, unless you'd like to sit and watch me eat, this is as good an activity as any."

By now, it had been several days since she first came in. He no longer needed blood transfusions, his wounds had healed enough that they no longer needed constant care, and his nutrition and appetite had improved enough that he could get more hardy foods, like solid slices of whole grain bread, carrots, broccoli, beats, and apples. Such foods were hard to chew though, so Seras kindly asked the kitchen staff to cube and steam the solid vegetables before she brought them down to him.

He was rather touched by the sentiment.

"I also brought a small knife, so you can slice the apples," Seras said.

"Just do whatever you want," Seras blushed.

He grinned roguishly and scooted closer to her. "I think I will..."

"Not like that!" she snapped, and pushed him away. "Just shower if you want, I'll be outside!"

"Aw, and you don't want to see the fruits of your labors as I bathe without you?"

"I'll see you after you're done!" she said, and moved out.

He chuckled.

Pip liked seeing her flustered, but he had to admit she was a mistress of mixed messages. She did nice things for him, which he felt sure meant she wanted some favor in return, but she always refused it. She brought blood-nourishing foods and blood transfusion bags, which he felt sure meant she wanted to make him tastier for when she drank his blood - but so far she didn't bite. (Literally.) She brought ointments for his wounds, which he felt meant she wanted a chance to rub him up as foreplay while they descended into having sex - but she hissed like a cat and got extremely snappy and irritable if he tried to touch her or come onto her while she dabbed it onto his skin.

In fact, she was extremely stiff and awkward any time she came near him, yet she looked at him with desire when she stood on the other side of the room. He saw the way she blushed and ran her eyes over him like a starstruck school girl, and looked deeply hungry and licked her lips whens he saw a trickle of blood, but she tried to act like it wasn't true when he addressed it. In fact, asking her yielded mixed results. When he asked as bluntly as he dared if she wanted to do something she said no, but if he asked if she was doing it out of kindness she insisted she just wanted him healthy. He was getting healthy and she had her chance to take him, so what gives?

And now she brought proper shower supplies, which seemed like the perfect opportunity to have shower sex - and she rather predictably but confusingly snapped at him when he brought it up.

The fact that she was a vampire that rented his time was, perhaps, the only reason he didn't try to make her answer to clear the air.

Her indecision and mixed messages made a rather tense atmosphere during the first week that could have been cleared had she been able to talk more openly. Yet, little did Pip know, she was receiving far worse ridicule upstairs, and so when she came down here she was hyper sensitive to mockery and criticism, and tried so hard to put on a show of being unable to embarrass.

Being rather easy-going, Pip shrugged and let it slide.

With the new shower supplies he was able to finally able to work up a lather and finally scrub soapy, bubbly circles into his skin and hair for the first time in ages. Also to take large handfuls of conditioner and work it into his coarse, cracked, dried hair.

Washing the hair was an absolute nightmare because he had grown it so long, but had not had a chance to properly wash or comb it in forever. Over time he found it was just easier to keep it braided 24/7, so it didn't become too tangled like when it was down. Yet, it still got loose and tangled in certain places, and it was easier to just leave it alone or weave it back into the braid than try to brush it out with his fingers.

Having nothing better to do, he sat on the bed and smoked while Seras knelt behind him and brushed the dread-knots out of his hair.

"I never thought the day would come that I'd be brushed like one of your Barbies," he said.

"I never had a Barbie," Seras grimaced.

"Really? Never?"

"I couldn't stand them. I liked stuffed animals better," Seras said.

"Well then, today is your lucky day," he said, and leaned over to her grinning suggestively. "I'm like a Ken doll, but with _whooole_ package."

"Ugh, don't!" she snapped, and pushed his head forward and gave his tangles a sharp pull with the brush. "If that's the way you're going to be, you can tame this beast yourself."

"Ooooh, _tame the beast_..."

"You know what I mean!" she snapped.

He laughed and apologized. "I'm joking, I'm joking. I'm sorry, it's all right. I'll hold still, I promise."

She sighed, then got to work.

At first it was very awkward and slow-going, but since there was nothing to do, they eventually eased into a pleasant silence.

"Let me know if it hurts," Seras said, and clutched a handful near the bottom and carefully brushed at the frays.

"All right," he said.

It took extremely long though. He had been in such poor shape for so long.

Seras seemed to like having such a simple task to do though, and eventually eased into it.

When he winced a few times but didn't say anything, she said, "I told you to tell me when it hurts!"

"Heh, I've experienced worse pulls than this," he said.

"I'm sure you have, but that doesn't mean you should just suffer in silence when I hurt you," Seras said earnestly. "Tell me next time."

"All right," he said.

And she got back to work.

After a while he said, "You know, it also feels good when you run your fingers through it."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, especially when you work your way higher and higher... till you reach the top and run your fingers through the scalp. Massage slow circles, and run your fingers from top to bottom..."

He grinned, waiting for her to get the innuendo.

"All right," Seras frowned, "I'll do that when I get far enough then, but I haven't even gotten halfway up."

He laughed. She made so many double entendres and didn't even know it! It was also part of her charm.

"All right then, take your time," he grinned.

He wondered if she got that one too, but she just kept working in silence.

Part of why Pip liked talking to her was he liked testing to see how many sexual innuendos he could get away with using before she got on, got embarrassed, snapped at him, and told him to stop. He found it amusing either way. When she didn't notice and when she did, when she caught on but let it slide and when she got so embarrassed she snapped at him to stop. It was fun no matter what.

Eventually they eased into a rather comfortable silence though.

"Why do you grow your hair so long, anyway?" Seras asked.

"Eh, personal reasons - superstition, you could say. I haven't cut it since the day I became a mercenary."

She paused. "You're a mercenary?"

"Was," he admitted. "It's a family tradition. Since my grandfather's grandfather's grandfather's grandfather's time. It was bound to happen eventually."

"How awful!" Seras cried.

"Eh, it wasn't my choice," he shrugged. "I didn't choose the family I was born into. In fact, I did not even find out I was from a mercenary family until I was twelve years old, and by then I was not exactly thrilled about it. But you know, in the end, I chose to become one of my own volition. I went in knowing what the risks and consequences were, and went ahead with it anyway."

"How could you?" Seras cried, "How could you kill people?"

"Heh," he chuckled, "I asked my grandfather the same question, when I found up. But, I guess one day I figured it out. I chose to go out into battlefields all across the world, fighting in one battlefield after another, killing men and seeing my own men killed, for cheap coin and the fun of it."

"Fun? That's awful," Seras spat, and she threw his hair back.

"Heh, spoken by the vampire."

"I'VE NEVER ENJOYED IT!" Seras snapped, and he realized he'd pressed a very serious button.

He smiled sadly. He took her scorn as his due. "Yeah, well... If it makes you feel better, I'm paying for it. I went from battlefield to battlefield around the world, took up arms against many men for a number of reasons... Though one night I took on a contract with some employers, who resented the spread of vampirism. 'Day-fighters,' they called themselves. Most of my men were killed. Those that weren't died so slowly and painfully, I'll bet they wished they were every second of their wretched lives. As for me? They kept me because I'm handsome. Because I could fetch a price."

Seras was silent for a long time. She let his words seep in, and then mulled it around in her head.

Finally, she said, "No one deserves this."

He snorted, "And yet, you're here."

"Have I ever used you poorly?" she demanded, half-defensive and half-panicked.

"Non," he said gently, "quite the opposite, you..."

He trailed off.

Seras had the good graces not to ask.

After a long silence she set back to brushing his hair, her own heavy with her own thoughts.

"Do you ever hate vampires, for what we did to you?" she asked.

He thought about it for a while. How much was safe to say to her, how much was safe to say out loud. "... Sometimes..." he finally admitted, "But then again, like I said, I made the choice for myself. I made the choice to become a mercenary, and I made the choice to fight against vampires. I can't very well complain about the consequences of my actions."

"But don't you hate it?" Seras asked. "Being down here? Being a slave to... to..."

He laughed bitterly. "You do not spend this long in my line of work, and fail to find pleasure in the meanest circumstances. I've spent weeks on end fighting in the hot, humid jungles of Uganda; months in the hottest, driest sand trap you could ever imagine. I've learned to find the simple pleasures in even the ugliest circumstances; the greatest reward in the lowliest pay."

He was pouring his heart out to her, as vile and soiled as he saw it. "For a dirt-cheap piece of shit pay, I traveled from battle to battle, all around the world. For a dirt-cheap piece of shit pay, I killed and was killed. For just the pleasure of a hot meal and cold drink, I crawled through the bug-infested underbrush of the African jungle and got bit to hell when I wasn't sniped. For just the pleasure of the ugliest, stingiest whores of the most run-down crapshack of a brothel you've ever seen, I several weeks of straight fighting through straight barrages and street bombs. I still can't get the ringing out of my ears. And now, for a few cigarettes and scraps of bread, I let vampires crawl all over me, drinking my blood and ravishing my body as they bring me to masochistic orgasm."

He grimaced, "I guess you could say I was the scum of the earth when I was up there, and now the I'm scum in a vampire's basement."

"I don't think you're scum," Seras said.

Her soft, kind words touched something in him.

"Well... you'd be the first to think that. But thank you."

She hesitated, then ran her fingers through the scalp of his hair.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: It's nice not having pressure to make every chapter perfect. I love my Beauty and the Geese and Little Mermaid fic, but they're such long runners with so many fans that I often feel pressured to make every chapter long, perfect, and engaging. Here? It's a plot bunny I'm sweeping out of my head. Like it or not, it is what it is.

Disclaimer: I have no legal claim or financial gain to Hellsing.

* * *

Eventually Seras swept through his entire head of hair, which went all the way down to his knees. By now, he sat on the ground with his back leaned against the bed spring, and Seras sat on the mattress behind him and brushed out his long tresses, from scalp to split ends. Technically she could have ended it there, but she enjoyed running the brush through again and again.

"I can't remember. Don't they say you should brush a hundred times?"

"You can if you want," he said, but he was a little bias.

Strong manly man he had been in his time, this felt extremely nice. Feeling her run the brush gently through his scalp to the base of his hair and back again, again and again, felt very soothing and rhythmic. Following his talk about willingly enduring many kinds of Hell for the basest of rewards and the smallest of pleasures, he had starved and suffered in this cold, dark, concrete shit-hole with such little kindness or enjoyments for so long, that something as simple as a brush running through his hair felt very nice.

She didn't know it, but he drooped his eyes and mentally melted into the touch.

Thankfully she decided to go with the hundred brush-strokes, as she had nothing better to do and nowhere else to go.

"I wonder why they made it a hundred, anyway?" Seras said at one point.

"It's to get the natural oils from your scalp to the tips of your hair," he said.

"Wha-? Really?"

"Oui," he said. "In the old days, before proper hair products, people's hair would be very oily at the top but dry and cracked at the bottom. Oil's a natural lubricant, so they would run the brush from scalp to the tip dozens of times just to work the oils from the scalp to the ends of the hair. It was just to lubricate the tips, but the 'hundred brush-strokes' rule was an easy way to do it."

"Huh, I never knew," Seras said.

He smirked. "I figured."

"Hey!" she snapped, and tugged his hair again.

He smiled and let her lull him into another trance with her gentle brushing.

Even after she was done though, Seras observed that his hair was still in poor shape.

"I don't suppose you want to trim it?" she asked.

"Nah. I haven't cut it this long, I won't start now."

"But you're not a mercenary anymore."

"I'm also not dead."

That shocked her into silence.

Since vampires didn't believe in or bother with factories, shampoos and conditioners were fairly difficult to come by. After such long neglect, his hair was very coarse, cracked, and filled with split ends anyway. He recommended using bottled oil, like olive or coconut, to lubricate it. Since coconuts were considered rather exotic and grew far away from this climate, Seras went with the olive oil and gently lathered and brushed it into his hair the next time she saw him.

Seras smiled as they worked. "You remind me of that Dothraki warlord from that book, _A Game of Thrones_."

"A game of what?"

"Hm? Oh. _A Game of Thrones_. It was a book that came out not too long before vampires took over,"* she paused. "A friend of mine checked it out at the library and told me about it afterwards. It was... too brutal for me to want to read, but she told me of the many stories and characters. One of them was a young girl whose brother married her off to a powerful barbarian warlord. She said he never cut his hair because he never lost a battle. It was so long it went down to his thighs, so he often oiled and braided it up, and the girl often helped him."

"Heh, like you're doing now," he smiled.

"Basically."

After struggling for a bit, she finally paused. "Actually, could you do it? I never learned how to braid."

He burst out laughing. "Damn straight!"

As he swept his hair aside and re-braided it, she absently placed her hand on his exposed shoulder and gave it a small squeeze.

It was a small, simple touch. Yet, it affected him more than the most erotic caresses. He was silent for a long time.

"And you really think me like this warrior?" he asked.

"From what I heard, there's a passing resemblance," Seras smiled.

Men have very delicate egos, or so it's often been said, so comparing him to this fictional warlord that never lost was definitely one of the nicer things Seras could have said.

He reached his hand over so it rested on hers, which was rested over his shoulder, and he gave it an affectionate squeeze.

By the end of the week, Pip looked much better. Seras came in every day to make sure he ate well, and that his injuries were healing. His skin already looked more plump and supple from the blood transfusions, his injuries healed fairly well thanks to the better nutrition and ointment, and his auburn hair hung in a long, thick, smooth, glossy braid.

Pip was also eating much better thanks to the steady stream of food his body had long gotten used to going without. For a while, a small bowl of leafy greens alone was enough to fill him for hours. Now, he was munching down nearly all the lettuce, spinach and kale Seras brought, as well as the steamed beats, carrots and broccoli. His appetite improved so much that she brought large slices of grain bread and cheese and even a bowl of thick pea soup from the kitchen. Despite what one may think, pea soup can be quite filling; especially this one since it was made of peas mashed and simmered into a hearty broth, sautéed garlic and onions, and cubed carrots and potatoes, along with plenty of spices to make it taste very rich.

Between the bread and soup, Pip felt like he ate like a king. He moaned in pleasure as he ate it, then felt so full he yawned and stretched and slept as deeply as a giant that had feasted on men.

He became so used to having food by the end that he was able to ask for certain types he liked more.

He was eating an apple Seras had placed in his basket, when he say out, "Could you bring tart apples next time?"

She turned around. "What?"

He knew she heard him, since she was a vampire, but she wanted clarification.

"In the future, when you bring more apples, could you make them more tart, like green ones? I like tart apples."

Seras smiled, and said she would.

She ran into trouble filling out that request though.

Up above ground, Seras was still a subject of ridicule among her peers. Her master was mercifully too busy with some crusade or another, so she had not seen him since the last time he told her to drink blood. She also did not have to stop to see her peers, but many of them came to her study and she knew they talked about her behind her back.

Rumor now had it that she rented out a cheap slave downstairs and went to see him every night.

At first, they were filled with praise.

"Seras! Congratulations!"

"Oh, Seras! I didn't know you had it in you."

"It feels _soooooooooo_ wonderful, doesn't it? "

"Do you mind if I come down? We can have a threesome."

"What's he like? Maybe I can have a go at him as well."

"You must like it so much. No wonder you go down there every night."

They asked her what her slave was like, and Seras honestly couldn't say because she'd barely touched him. Most of the vampires either lacked critical thinking skills or had long stopped applying them, so they just assumed she'd lost her blood innocence on casual conversation with her, and didn't stay or come closer to find out. However, on further inspection they found something was wrong with her look, scent, and demeanor for what they thought she did.

One even leaned over and sniffed her.

"You still reek of innocence."

Then word got around that Seras was still a blood virgin despite renting and spending so much time with one of the weakest slaves, and their ridicule for her increased tenfold. It's the type of shame only imaginable if applied to a situation like... like a young man getting married and never touching his wife. To put it in the bluntest terms, she was the laughing stock of the castle.

"Oh Seras, I would invite you to join me with Mona and my two slaves, but I think you'd walk away still a virgin!"

Only the three eldest Brides, who had first welcomed her by dancing and holding out their hands and beckoning to her with chants of "sister! sister!" remained somewhat civil. Their age made them the most vague, indulgent, and nymphomaniac (they practically crawled on their hands and knees and groveled up their master's body whenever he returned from battle), but it also, strangely, made them most lacking in human nastiness. They accepted all of their "brothers and sisters," even if they were foolish blood virgins.

Yet, when Seras went to the kitchen and filled her basket with food meant for the humans, and they found her filling it with the tart apples she had requested, even they had to object.

"What does he give you for all those treats?" one Bride asked.

Seras wondered how she was lucid enough to ask.

"Nothing," she answered honestly.

"Ooooh, darling, that will not do..." she said as she glided over to Seras, her gossamer gown trailing behind her. "He is only a human that earns his keep through his services to us. If you give him something so wonderful for nothing in return, it will go to his head and create dissension."

"I don't think you know what that means," Seras said, and grabbed another apple to place in her basket.

Soon, there was something of an attempted intervention for Seras among the eldest Brides.

"Darling, you mustn't spoil your human so, or he will try to take advantage of you."

When they learned that Seras asked the kitchen humans if they could please find her tart apples, they felt affronted on many levels. Asking humans instead of telling? And what were the new apples for?

"He really likes them," Seras said.

They felt this would not do at all.

"Honey... honey... you mustn't do that!"

"The moment you start serving him instead of you, things will go awry..."

"He'll start using you, tricking you."

"He'll try to get all he can out of you..."

"I don't think he will," Seras said, but she wasn't so sure.

"Honey, honey, it's not that simple. We are the masters and they are the slaves. As soon as you start treating them otherwise, they'll start treating you like the slaves."

They explained that the way things worked was that vampires were the masters and humans were the servants. They maintained this by always ensuring humans served them and they took what they wanted from them. The moment they started giving humans what they wanted, asking for nothing in return, they risked upsetting the balance of power. They risked humans starting to think they were in charge, they could start making orders, they could start thinking they could get things from vampires without giving anything in return.

"He'll start using you and manipulating you for his own ends..." one said mysteriously.

"He won't!" Seras cried.

"Really? Then he won't try testing to see what he can get away with?"

Seras faltered. She couldn't say "no" for certain. He had been trying to inch closer and closer to her; using more innuendos, seeing how far he could get with the dirty talk before she snapped at him to be quiet or back up.

"He won't try pushing to see what he can get out of you?"

Seras could see that he wanted sex, even though it made her vastly uncomfortable. Any time she did anything nice for him, he would inch closer and closer, try to segue into more intimate words and embraces. He only backed up when she told him to back up, but always tested when she started to let her guard down.

"He didn't start requesting more favors or presents after you started doing more favors than before?"

She thought of his request for her to bring crisper, tarter apples. While he often complained, he usually ate whatever she gave him and applied whatever medicine, transfusion blood and shower supplies she brought without any comment.

The Brides began circling around Seras as they whispered and insinuated.

"This is how it all starts..." one said.

"First he acts grateful and harmless enough..."

"Then he starts pushing to see how much more he can get away with..."

"Start asking to see how much more he can get from you..."

"Then he'll start taking more and more, giving less and less..."

Thank goodness, this was the wrong thing to say. Seras instantly snapped out of her reverie and realized what they were doing.

"I don't want anything from him," she said, and broke out of the circle and left the room.

"You can't fight the truth, Seras!" they called after her.

Seras tried to shake their words out of her head, but they had planted the seed of doubt and it had taken root.

Regardless, Seras entered his room with the basket of food like she did every night, with the tart apples he liked among them. He looked genuinely grateful, and bit into it first thing. The concrete walls echoed with the crunch of his teeth chomping into the crisp, tart apples.

"Oh, fuck me, these are delicious," he said when most of the first apple was almost completely devoured. "Merci."

"Don't mention it," she said.

He ate the entire apple all the way down to the core, and reached for another one.

Seras was so glad she selected the right kind, but she also felt guilty to bring only a few. She had wanted to leave room for other foods in the basket, but since he was eagerly eating through all three with no sign of stopping, she felt bad for not bringing more. She also watched him enjoying eating his food (no longer just a necessity not to die), and vaguely envied him. She wished she could eat with him - er, like him.

"I'm sorry not to bring you more," Seras said.

"Eh, what are you sorry for? You didn't have to bring them at all."

"I know, but..." When he didn't interrupt her, as she was so used to being interrupted, she said, "Well, if I was going to bring you anything, I should have brought more.

"Hey, some are better than none," he said, and pulled out the last apple. "I'm grateful for the ones you did bring."

Pip was a good sport about it though. When the apples were gone he again thanked her genuinely, then reached for something else in the basket.

Seras sighed in relief, then sat on his bed more comfortably, and enjoyed his company for the rest of the day. In the back of her mind, she remembered what the Brides said about the human trying to manipulate and use her, to take advantage of her and get what he could out of her. It was hard to forget, but she tried to put it out of her mind. She was a bit alert for any request, but for the most part she didn't see any harm if he did. She enjoyed his company, and if his life was so wretched down here that a few crisper, tarter apples made it less terrible, she was happy to do it.

The tense awkwardness of her first few visits was largely gone. The conversation they had while she brushed the snarls out of his hair had largely cleared the air, and forged a deeper connection. Seras still sometimes worried if he hated vampires for what they did to him, and felt complicit in his slavery since she was paying to see him too, but still... things were very pleasant.

He was good company.

Certainly much better than the vampires upstairs, who only talked of trivial things like blood, pleasure, and slaves.

Pip was also very perverted, often made dirty jokes, talked about past sexcapades, and twisted many conversations into being about whether they'd do it, but otherwise... he was very nice.

All too soon, the week was up and he would have to go back to work. It made Seras so worried that she lay wide-awake in her coffin, unable to go into her supernatural sleep during the day.

On her last visit she arrived with her basket of food, and when she saw him she thought he looked really good. His flesh was soft and supple with blood, his wounds either healed or became minor enough that they had stopped bleeding, and his skin largely cleared up thanks to good nutrition and hygiene. He was still rather thin - she could still see his ribs, collar and hip bones, but his skin was not drawn so tightly around his bones as they had been. His face was also not so gaunt, and he didn't have purple shadows under his eyes.

Then she thought about how his week was up, and he would soon go back to the mercy of other vampires. She feared all her work that week would be undone, and he would go back to being drained, bruised, injured, slashed, bitten, and savaged as though by wild animals.

It must have showed on her face, because he said, "You're worried about tomorrow night?"

"What?" she asked.

"You're looking at me the way you did when you first came here, before all this," he gestured to the life-saving food and medicine, "Now your week's rental is almost up, and I have to go back to work tomorrow. I figure, that's probably what you're worried about."

"I... well, that's true, yes," she admitted.

"It doesn't have to end, you know," he said.

"I'll ask Narissa if I can rent more time. I don't want you to go back the way you were."

"Oh, I don't

He leaned closer to her, which made her chest and face feel warm all over. He also placed his hand on her thigh and leaned in for a kiss.

"What are you doing?!" she demanded.

"I just thought we should enjoy our last night together."

"But we are!"

"Are you sure? Is this why you healed me?"

"Of course!"

He was confused. "To enjoy in bed or conversation?"

"I... I don't know!" she ducked out from under him and stood a reasonable distance away.

He sighed. "Why did you heal me?"

"Because I just want to talk to you, that's all!"

He blinked.

"I... I don't know. There's no one to talk to upstairs, so I just... I don't know..."

After a respectable silence, he said, "Why didn't you just tell me?"

She couldn't answer. She remembered her master's order to drink blood, and felt the urge, even now. But, she felt like she would be taking advantage of him if she did. His life wasn't his own and he had no freedom, no choice in who took him and who didn't. Who fed from him and who didn't. She remembered how drained and dehydrated he had been, and felt like she wouldn't be any better than the other vampire women that used him so horribly to make him that way in the first place. She felt she would take advantage of him.

Her blinding hunger kept bringing her back. If she fed from anyone or anything, she thought maybe it could be him...? But she couldn't drink from him until she gave back enough in return. And for now, Seras felt she hadn't given enough back to justify drinking from him. He still needed so much more; more food, more healing, more luxuries.

Seras' human emotions and vampire instincts were horribly tangling and clashing. On the one hand, for vampires drinking blood was akin to enjoying sexual gratification. Some deep cardinal part of Seras realized it too. Since she feared and shunned sexual relations as a mortal, she also shunned both it and blood drinking as a vampire. Her human sensibilities felt that if she drank blood from anyone, it had to be the right person, in the right time and the right place...

Like waiting to lose her virginity to the right man, Seras thought sadly.

And of all the people of every species she had encountered since she was turned, she felt Pip was the closest fit. She just couldn't explain it; when she even thought about drinking blood from someone else, her insides ran cold. No. She felt no desire to do it. But when she thought of drinking from him, she felt she could. Her teeth ached, her insides writhed, and a deep gnawing hunger from deep within longed to be filled. Yet, when her vampiric self reared at the opportunity to bite and drink and lay with him, her human side felt equally repulsed and horrified. She just couldn't do that to him. Take him and leave. She might as well be a common thug. Especially since he was so weak, starved, and abused already. She felt like just one more of his abusers, taking advantage of his vulnerability by drinking him and leaving him. So, she felt she had to do something nice first to make up for it.

If she was going to drink his life essence to sustain her own, she should provide something nice to sustain his, she thought.

She just couldn't drink from him till then, if she did at all. A huge part of Seras didn't want to drink from him, and half of her felt she never would. But, some small part kept compelling her to come back, and she felt she shouldn't do so without giving her share first. And so far, she hadn't paid enough. Part of her felt guilty, like the only reason she was giving him all these nice things was because she just wanted cardinal blood from him in return, and that's a horrible thing to do. People shouldn't do kind things for each other just for something in return. So, even though her craving for blood kept compelling her to come back, she refused to answer it. Instead, she answered her human morality and just kept giving him nice things without asking for anything in return, almost to prove to herself she wasn't the user or monster her Superego accused her of being.

But, that wasn't doing very well either, because he seemed to expect her to take him like a vampire would and she wouldn't do that either. It was just an awkward situation for them both.

"You all right?" Pip asked.

She snapped out of her reverie, and realized she had just been sitting there.

"Sorry, lost in thought, I guess."

"I can see," he said. "Care to share?"

Her deadpan glare said it all.

Seras was worried about that too. He had improved so much in the time she'd rented him, but now his regulars were getting antsy and even Narissa was impatient for him to get back to work. Seras approached her hoping to ask for more time, but

"I've still rented you out for half the night for the next three nights," Seras said, "So no matter what, at least you'll get a break."

One unforeseen consequence of Seras taking such good care of Pip was that he rose in price. Because he was much handsomer and healthier, some of his old regulars got extremely put out. When they realized they couldn't slash and maim him back into submission, they moved onto other prostitutes who fit the bill. Even those individuals were not completely without hope, because Seras secretly sent baskets of food, medicine, soap, and other _basic_ odds and ends to their room too. Pip was the only one she visited, but he wasn't the only one who had _some_ helping hand to let him know _someone_ cared.

When Seras left his room one evening, Narissa was standing there. Her fingers absently twiddled her large bead necklace, and her eyes were thoughtful.

"He seems to be getting much juicier since you've been with him."

Seras winced at her choice of words. "I guess you could say that."

"I might even be able to recommend him to better clients. Murielle really likes her men large, strong, and pumping hot, you see. And she's always on the lookout for a new one."

Seras' own face grew very hot at the description. Then it felt cold and drained of blood when Narissa seemed to wait for her to respond.

"You're asking me?"

"Just curious, that's all."

"... Okay..." Seras said warily.

Narissa still didn't move; just looked at his door thoughtfully. Unsure how to respond, Seras left.

The next time she saw Pip, he was in a better room with much better furnishings. It wasn't as good as the Captain, but he did get a bed that wasn't broken, a dresser with three drawers instead of two, a shower separated from the rest of the room with a curtain, and had warm running water. The running water was the best of all, he said later.

He also had some new clothes. When Seras walked in, he was dressed in a clean set of trousers instead of the ratty old ones she was used to, and wore a very nifty looking Australian cowboy hat.

"Howdy, ma'am," he teased.

"Oh!" Seras cried, and blushed.

"You like it?"

"I... yes. Pardon me, I've never seen that before."

"It was a gift, from another client."

Her gut clenched with jealousy. Another client? Another client got him something?

"R-really?" she asked, and tried to sound vaguely curious.

"Yup. We were enjoying a post-coital smoke, when I happened to bring up a similar experience when I was in Australia. When I happened to mention I'd been in the Outback, she said I must look really sporting in one of those hats. When I said I once had one, she brought me one on her next visit."

"Oh..." Seras said, and couldn't hide her disappointment. "I didn't know other vampires were buying presents for humans."

He laughed. "Jealous, ma cher?"

"I'm not, and don't call me ma cher!" she cried.

He grinned, and shrugged. "Looks like you started a new trend, ma cher."

"What do you mean?"

She still hovered by the door, and held onto the doorknob absently.

He leaned back in bed, as nonchalant as could be. With his new muscled torso, thick trousers, and impressive cowboy hat, he made an amazing silhouette. "Vampires used to think of the dungeons as places to reap pleasure instead of giving it. Come down, extract as much blood and sex as they wanted, then leave. Then they saw - well, heard from Narissa - that you giving gifts and food makes some of us shittier slaves taste better, last longer, and feel better in bed. Naturally, they pay good money to have us en want to suck every last penny they can out of us. Pun intended, by the way."

"I noticed," Seras frowned.

"So," he said casually, and folded his hands behind his head, "Most of them have servants anyway. It costs them nothing to give us an extra boost, at greater pleasure to them."

"I thought the whole reason they came down here was because they got tired of being considerate of servants?" Seras asked.

"They do, but up there, they have to take care of them. Make sure they're fed, clothed, given blood when they drink too much. Down here? They can be as rough as they want, fuck, drink, en leave. Then the madam en servants take care of the rest. Still, for one visit, one little gift does more good than it costs."

"Oh..."

In her own way, Seras was disappointed. She was very happy for him and the others, but being the only vampire that brought presents and caring about their overall well-being... well... made her special. Seras helped humans like Pip, brought conversation and nice things when the other vampires just used drained and left. Now, they were talking, treating him better, and giving him nice things too? What did that leave her as? The one vampire that wouldn't screw him, and now had the lamest stuff?

Pip laughed. "Don't hide your disappointment or anything."

She flushed furiously. "I'm not!"

That was all that was said on the subject because Seras would not say any more, but she did feel ashamed of herself.

She was glad Pip was doing really well for himself; she really was. She started helping him because she wanted him to do well. At the same time, though...

Another unforeseen consequence of Seras taking such good care of Pip and making him more valuable was that his price went up. She could no longer rent him out for a week, or a whole day, or even every day. Soon, her daily visits dwindled down to one visit every few days. When she wasn't visiting him, she was working to pay for the next one.

When she missed him dreadfully when she couldn't go down, and felt her heart flutter when she finally made it.

He seemed surprised to see her too. "I missed you yesterday," he said.

"I'm sorry. I had to work to afford another visit," she removed her jacket and hung the basket on the coat-hanger by the door. "You're becoming more popular now, you know that?"

"Really? I hadn't noticed," he said, as he lit a cigarette.

Seras was about to protest. Then he smirked at her, and she realized he had been teasing.

Being away from each other for a day helped them appreciate the other more. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder" and all. Seras brought him goodies no one else did, despite how Narissa was now bringing him better food, and Pip was arguably the only person in the castle Seras could talk to. But it went deeper than that and they both knew it, but neither would say it out loud.

She feared again what would happen to him when she wasn't around, but again, Narissa took good care of him. Because he was bringing in the dough, she was willing to spare a little for him. Give him blood transfusions, medicine and basic luxuries. Seras was glad... but on the other hand she also felt he had no need of her anymore.

She saw him once every two to three nights, and in that time he only grew bulkier and healthier. When Seras first saw him, he had highly bruised, slashed up, chalky, greasy, and infected skin pulled taut over an all-too-visible skeleton. By the end of the first week, his skin was made up of mostly recovered slashes and bruises pulled lightly over his skeleton. His skin and hair were glossier than ever, and while he was still thin and while every rib was still visible, the skin stretched softly over his bones and not harshly.

This was partly because he had gone without proper food in so long that most of Seras' first week with him had been spent getting his body used to eating at all. Now that he was used to eating and Narissa was feeding him more, he could eat more hardy foods, and he could also eat larger amounts of it, he was bulking out wonderfully. Most of his ribs had vanished, and he had enough carbs to convert to muscle.

When clients weren't around, there also wasn't much for him to do down there but work out (much like bored prison inmates, Seras thought wryly), and it showed beautifully.

Seras once entered his room to find him clutching the top of the doorframe with his hands, and pull himself up and down.

"Oh, hey!" he said when he saw her.

"Hello yourself," she said.

"Yeah, I get a hard-on working out."

"What?"

"Nothing."

He thought she was saying "Hello yourself" to his... ah... but she really had just been addressing him. No way he was going to explain that embarrassing quirk of his male body to an innocent girl who didn't understand most double entendres and still refused to so much as kiss him.

When he finished worked out, he let himself fall to the ground with a loud "THUD!" then straightened and stood before her. Despite her innocence, she ogled and practically drooled over him. He wore only a pair of thick military cargo pants and combat boots. His bare torso gleamed with muscles and sweat, with his long braid clinging to his sweat-covered skin.

Seras stopped breathing. He was so tall, bulky, and handsome. By now, he was covered in rippling muscles as well as healing scars, and the cowboy hat, thick jeans and military trousers he wore accentuated this new handsome appearance.

Pip spotted her ogling him, and smirked. "Like what you see?"

She snapped out of it. "No!" she snapped automatically, then blushed. "I-I mean, yes. Well, you do look handsome!"

Pip chuckled.

"Aw, ma cher, I'm touched. You know I do all this for you."

"Like hell you do!" Seras snapped, then she huffed as she held out her nightly basket.

He laughed and accepted it. "For me? I'm touched! It isn't even my birthday."

"Keep talking like that and you might not live to see the next one!" she snapped before she could help herself.

His smile sobered. "Yeah, you don't say."

Seras winced.

"I mean, I'll punch your lights out so you sleep right through it!"

He laughed. "Is that a fact?"

"Yeah, that's a fact!" she flushed.

He grinned, shook his head, and motioned for her to sit on the bed. She accepted the invitation gratefully, and he ate the food she brought while they talked.

He seemed to like her visits on the whole, even though she was no longer bringing him nice things that other people weren't, and she also wasn't bringing him... well... what he seemed to want. He still flirted and mock-kissed her, and Seras still got moody and uncomfortable. He always laughed it off, so he seemed to take it in stride.

He seemed to like her visits good and well, and Seras liked coming to visit him too. Her heart swelled and her teeth ached, but she suppressed her vampire hunger so she could just enjoy his company without ruining it with... well. ("Monster" flashed through Seras' mind.) They often sat on opposite ends of the room and just talked. The tension and awkwardness slowly melted away and they both knew what the other wanted from them. By now, it became pretty clear to Pip that Seras wasn't going to suck on him and Seras knew Pip wasn't going to try to initiate contact if she didn't, and so they just eased into pleasant conversations.

Seras liked talking to him. He was very casual and nonchalant, but sharp as a tack. He was very insightful, she liked bringing up different things.

"You're not blushing today," he said one visit.

Her face instantly went red on the comment.

"Now you are," he grinned.

"Oh! You jerk!" she flushed.

He chuckled, "I know, terrible."

He seemed happier on the whole, which made Seras happy. There was something of an edge when Seras first came down, which was understandable considering what he had went through. There was trace of understandable bitterness, and hardness. Now he was either really good at hiding it, or his life down here was going well enough that it didn't need to be present.

Seras found her heart melt whenever she came to see him. She felt a... fondness being around him that hadn't been present before, and she wondered if he felt it for her too. Probably not. In fact, Seras felt sure not. He treated her with casual friendliness that she felt sure was just nonchalant. He was probably like this with all his clients, since good service yielded better money, more visits, and less of a likeliness to get slashed or broken for his insolence.

While she knew logically what his job entailed and how she would no doubt have to participate some day, if her master and sisters had anything to say about it, she was still unprepared for the reality of the act.

One night, Seras came down to see him during what she thought was their scheduled hour. Her girlish heart compelled her to fill the nightly basket with that she thought was a really pleasant treat. It had the usual healthy foods they were used to, only she also added blocks of gourmet cheese and a bottle of wine. She had heard French people tended to like that sort of thing, but through conversation with Pip she found he liked them good and well too. She thought it was a nice treat and something to enjoy; not a romantic gesture, she thought.

Since he had a new room surrounded by many doors with equally pleasurable activities, she came to feel the noises were normal as she walked down the hall. She also misheard where the sounds were coming from until it was too late. She opened the door and immediately balked at what she saw.

Pip Bernadotte, the human she had grown so attached to, wore nothing but his cowboy hat and a pair of riding chaps and was being ridden relentlessly by one of the vampire women. One of the women who Seras saw more often every day.

She thought she heard Pip say something, perhaps acknowledge the new guest, or perhaps it was just her imagination.

Mortified, temporarily blinded, Seras shot back, felt her head might pop from the rush of blood to her cheeks or projectile vomit from nausea and horror at what she had witnessed, and ran up the stairs, feeling ever like the fool.

* * *

Why is it that every time things start to go well for Seras and Pip, I feel this need to throw a wrench in at the bottom of the chapter?

*George R. R. Martin's _A Game of Thrones_, the first installment of _A Song of Fire and Ice_, was published in 1996. Kohta Hirano's Hellsing takes place in 1998. This is a sort of alternate universe that takes place around that time too, so _A Game of Thrones_ would technically have been published and out and about at that time, even if it wasn't as popular as it is now.


End file.
